A complication
by pretty.red.sailor
Summary: Chapter 7 is finally up! :D
1. Chapter 1

_The bed was hot where his body writhed and a drop of sweat stung the scars on his back as it rolled slowly along his skin. The blanket had to come off, so he shook it with his foot, flinching as it caught on something unexpected at the end of the bedpost. A voice in pain told Merlin he was not alone, and he sat upright to face the intruder._

_"Shhh," the voice whispered harshly, "lay back down!"_

_It was so familiar, and instinctively Merlin resumed his position on the bed, still as hot as he was until... a cold presence nudged his left leg and a chill ran down his arm. Suddenly the heat shifted to his head and his stomach, and stopped only after travelling a few inches further. Merlin shuffled uncomfortably, taken aback by the sudden change in his heartbeat as the voice above him whispered by his ear._

_"You want me Merlin, don't you?"_

_Merlin wanted to face the speaker but he was paralysed by the hot breath on his cheek. The coldness now spread to his chest and a weight pressed down onto his hips. His heart accelerated on contact and a rough moan escaped his lips. This excited the person beside him, and cold, wet lips touched Merlin's shoulder._

_"I want you," he couldn't see who the person was, but he knew that voice, and the burning in his groin answered its question before his lips could open._

_"I want you, I want you now," he repeated, breathless and suddenly animated, arching his back and turning to the object of his desire._

_"Arthur."_

Merlin shot awake and out of his bed so quickly that the prince in his dream was still hazily present in front of his eyes when he hit the floor. He rose clumsily and searched the room with his eyes, though knowing that it had all been just a dream, just in case. He shrugged off the first wave of shock and sat down with weakened legs.

"What. The. Hell??" He exclaimed to himself, rubbing the memories of the dream away, and holding his shaking head. Despite his attempt to banish them, the recollections poured freely, and the feelings and the heat, and the throbbing, and the moaning. He moaned in anger at himself, and rocked his body once, tugging at his hair.

_It was just a dream_, he thought to himself, and forced his mind onto a different topic, and forced his questions to fall on his plans for the day.

It was then that Arthur entered Merlin's chambers, hurriedly and in a temper not yet at its peak.

To be confronted by the image of the prince so soon after waking from the dream was too much to handle at that moment, and all the memories immediately flooded back. Wide-eyed and irritated at himself, Merlin turned his head to the bed sheets, his face burning red.

"Merlin, I want you."

_What...?_ Oh no, this would not do. His face shot up, hotter than before, as Arthur's sentence hit his stomach hard, and he glanced around for a bowl, should he need it. He chose that moment to ignore the voice inside his head which told him that he _should_ search instead for a restraint.

"Good god Merlin, what is wrong with you? I hope you have not taken ill."

"No, Arthu... Sire," He couldn't use the prince's first name again so soon after his tongue had uttered it in a way that would send him straight to the stake.

"Good, because I need you to help me with training today, I am out of practice."

Merlin opened his mouth to utter a protest, but could not think of an excuse fast enough.

"You will meet me at the stables when you are dressed."

And as Arthur's eyes flickered over Merlin's bare chest, to Merlin they almost seemed to linger for a moment, before he turned and marched from the room. But of course this was ridiculous – mindless fancy spurred on by his dream. He twisted his features in shame.

"What. The. Hell??" He uttered again, biting his lip so hard that it bled. He remained still for a moment, contemplating escape through the forest, never to return again... but rational thought put a stop to his plans, and his body kicked into action when Arthur's voice from outside demanded that he hurried.

"It was just a dream," he repeated to himself in a whisper, over and over until his heartbeat slowed.

"Of course it doesn't mean anything... you dreamt of Gwen the night before – you're not in love with her!"

Then he shook his head in disgust at the implication of what he was justifying – "you're _certainly_ not... _in love_ with Arthur." And the thought seemed to stick.

"No, it was just a stupid... meaningless... disturbing dream." He pulled his shirt over his head with higher spirits than before, and stared happily into the reflecting glass.

His appearance however, for the first time since arriving into Camelot, seemed to him, inadequate. He brushed down the mess of his hair, and he straightened his posture, but it did little to better the reflection.

"Oh. Dear. God!" he reprimanded himself before Arthur's voice called again, this time travelling through the open window from the stables.

Merlin scuffed up his hair again, and with a deliberate slouch, left the room determined to focus on only the swordplay. When an ache touched his stomach at the thought of one-on-one combat with the prince, however, he cursed under his breath and splashed water from a nearby bucket onto his face.

"Snap out of it you moron! It was just a dream!"

And he reached the stables and took the armour from Arthur's warm, outstretched hands.


	2. Chapter 2

"Merlin," an exasperated Arthur sighed from above the boy with his back on the ground, "Merlin, are you going to actually fight me any time soon or should I just call for the scarecrow instead?"

Merlin grunted, propping his tired body up on his elbows, taking the helmet off and wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Because at the moment, it'd be more of a challenge to duel with a hay sack," the prince smirked, hoping to spring the boy into fight-mode.

"Just give me a minute..." Merlin panted, "To catch my breath."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he stood down and let his sword fall to the ground. He offered his hand for support and Merlin took it. The prince launched him forward, but he judged his strength too lightly for the weakened boy, and pulled Merlin so close to him, so quickly, that their noses almost crashed together.

"Sorry," he spoke, releasing Merlin's hand and taking a step backward calmly, not a second too soon. This was more than the wizard could do himself - for four hours they had been duelling, or rather, Arthur had been practicing on a sitting duck, and by some strike of luck, last night's dream hadn't entered Merlin's mind... until now.

He mumbled something which was supposed to sound like "it's alright," but Arthur neither understood nor listened to the reply, sitting instead on a bench by his horse, and rubbing the back of his neck. He cupped his hand into a bucket of water, and two drops dribbled down his chin when he took a drink. Merlin watched him in what he labelled curiosity, following after a few seconds to sit next to the prince, but taking perhaps more care than required when judging just how close to sit. They remained silent for a few minutes, Merlin feeling the cold breeze on his sweat-drenched clothes, and Arthur musing on the mountains ahead.

"You know," he spoke with his eyes unmoved from the scenery, "you did get much better at handling a sword, Merlin."

The wizard smiled, half expecting himself to blush at the obvious-to-him innuendo, but, fortunately, he kept his cool.

"...That was, until today," Arthur added, unable to resist, with a smile pulling the corner of his lips, and though his face was still on the mountains, his eyes glanced at Merlin. And then the burning came, suddenly.

"Yeah, well, I had a... rough night," the excuse caught in his throat, he swallowed before trusting his voice again, "I'll improve after resting."

"Is that so?" Arthur raised his eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Well, I expect more fight from you in round two then."

He stood, picking up his sword, and twisting it around in his hand as he did before a battle. The look his eyes smouldered towards Merlin then was far more distressing than the metal by his side, and for the first time before a duel with Arthur, the wizard felt something like fear.

He gulped back the salvia with his swollen tongue, and he picked up his sword as the feeling which accompanied this stupidity took hold. He was angry. He had nobody to direct it to but Arthur, nobody who deserved it more than Arthur. Who was a prince to unsettle a wizard? Who was he to invade a private dream? How could he disturb Merlin's mind to the point of idiocy? This would not be allowed; Merlin would not give himself up. He reached for his own sword, and gripped it hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Oh yes, the prince would get his fight.


	3. Chapter 3

"That's it!" He called between breaths which were coming much quicker than ever before during training. He did not have time to register his surprise; blows from the fast-flying sword were becoming much more difficult to dodge.

"Very impressive," he continued, but he spoke to fill the void of anything but the sound of metal through the wind - the fight was much too concentrated, it didn't feel like practice if both swordsmen were silent, and with Merlin's sudden intensity...it didn't feel like practice at all.

"Very good!" the gasp from Arthur began involuntarily as he narrowly missed a blow, but he managed to finish with a compliment through his teeth, not able to hide his shock. He would have to pick up his game; he was no longer duelling with the servant Merlin; the soldier was surfacing.

"I told you I'd improve with rest," Merlin said breathlessly when he pinned Arthur into a recess in the stable wall. A dangerous move, for more than one reason. There was nothing but wood and the wizard's body and sword around the prince; he would have to use his strength if he wanted to move, and Merlin knew Arthur would overpower him; his body was tough, and the wizard was close enough to feel the hard muscles twitching beneath him, ready to move at any second.

But that second never came.

Instead the boys stared at each other, their noses almost touching again, and there was no denying now the race in Merlin's heartbeat. He only hoped Arthur could not feel it too - their chests were certainly close enough.

The proximity could only have lasted a second, but the wizard counted at least 20 heartbeats during that time, and at least four of these had pulsed blood violently to a body part he would lose if his thoughts were ever discovered.

_This cannot be happening!_ Merlin's brain racked around itself, and then a small penny dropped from somewhere on the inside. _Christ,_ he groaned inwardly, not fully allowing the realisation to surface. He stiffened.

"Merlin?" Arthur spoke with his eyebrows both raised, and his voice almost suggestive...

"Yes..?" the reply came cautiously.

"You're standing on my foot."

That snapped the wizard from his trance; he backed away quickly and Arthur couldn't hold a smile, but his expression was curious and he couldn't hide that either. Neither of the two raised their swords again, and both tiredly, though one more so than the other, dropped their weapons.

"Shall we call it a day?" Arthur asked with his smile more exposed. Merlin nodded, and began to pack the things away, hastily avoiding eye contact with anything but the ground.

"Merlin," the voice sounded like it had done in the dream, "you did well."

The wizard reddened but this was one occasion where he didn't have to hide it.

"And... who knows? With a bit more practice, I might even consent to fighting alongside you one day," Arthur added, shaking Merlin's shoulder lightly, though his grip was firm, and his hand warm on the cold chain metal.

The hand remained on the shoulder longer than it needed to, but Merlin refused to give way to a sudden feeling of hope. It surprised him by how quickly it came on though, and he flinched uncomfortably beneath Arthur's grasp.

"Sire," Gaius called in perfect timing from behind a haystack outside the stable, "your father wishes to speak to you."

Arthur didn't snap his hand back in embarrassment like the little voice inside Merlin's mind was hoping - the voice he suppressed instantly – no, Arthur's hand evenly fit back beside his waist. He nodded to Gaius and then turned to the wizard again, flashing him his best side-smile.

"You'll get this all cleaned up, won't you?"

"Mhmmm," was all Merlin could murmur in reply. He stumbled for the first of what he feared would be many times in Arthur's wake, and felt the full inconvenience of Gaius' presence, watching him carefully. Merlin's mind was in desperate need of sorting.

Arthur was by now out of earshot, and Merlin could still not look at anything but the wood-chipping ground, though he was aware that Gaius circled him, and he knew the eyes were probing his own.

_Does he know? _He thought, _or am I just being paranoid?_ He decided to go with the latter, to plead ignorant until proven guilty. That's what he would do. He straightened and lifted the gathered equipment onto a wheelbarrow. He stacked the few strays, and neatly arranged the load so that it would be easier to pull. Gaius watched and watched and didn't speak a word.

_Is this his plan?_ Merlin wondered; _to trick me into speaking first and betraying myself? Well I won't do it!_

Still not a word from the old man was spoken, but he had now stopped circling and he dropped two objects into the wheelbarrow. They were Merlin's sword and helmet.

"You missed these," Gaius nodded to the weapons.

"Oh," Merlin mumbled, "I didn't realise, thank you."

He sneaked a glance at Gaius' expression, but the old man was watching the scenery in front of him, paying no attention to Merlin at all. It seemed he had circled only to pick up the items the wizard forgot. _You paranoid moron_, thought Merlin.

He relaxed visibly, picking up the handlebars of the wheelbarrow, when Gaius, apparently decided about something, added...

"Yes, you picked up all of Arthur's things but missed your own." He looked at the boy with one deep, lancing glance, and then changed his face and walked on ahead. Merlin's heart altogether stopped at that moment.

"Shit."


	4. Chapter 4

"You're to go alone, the village is small and there will be no risk to you along the way."

"Yes father," Arthur replied, nodding his head at the instructions which he was unsure of how to take.

"You may take your manservant, of course, and your horse – I expect you to arrive back in time for the banquet tomorrow evening."

Arthur nodded once more, sensing that the meeting was coming to an end; his father stood from his chair and was pacing past him towards the door.

"You remember your way?"

At this Arthur could not repress a sceptical stare.

"Yes, father," his tone was almost immature, but Uther decided to ignore it, and motion his son to come closer. He gripped his shoulder, and into Arthur's right hand he thrust an amulet.

"This will be the exchange."

Arthur looked the object over with the air of somebody familiar with expensive metals, and he turned up his nose slightly at its plainness.

"Sentimental value," Uther explained, "the village leader's father wore this in my service, and I am giving to his son what was rightly bestowed upon _me_ on the man's death."

Arthur nodded for the third time. And then Uther signalled his leave, and the prince took one glance out of the window at the fast approaching nightfall, before walking to his chamber.

He mapped the journey in his mind, a trip he had taken many times in his life, but always during the summer, when daylight was long; he had never crossed the forest path to Asidore in darkness. He was not afraid of the wood at night; creatures could not scare the crown prince of Camelot, but the idea of arriving at the banquet late set his heartbeat quickening, and the image of his father's disappointed face rattled him more than he cared to admit.

If he was sure of anything, it was that he needed to leave instantly, and so, walking straight past his chamber, he bounded into Merlin's on the floor below.

"Upstairs, now, my chamber!" was all he said to the startled boy, before slamming the door shut and making his way ahead.

Merlin had been napping on a chair... so quickly he could sleep when his body had been exhausted. His dreams had been innocent, thankfully, and in the instance of waking he had forgotten to feel embarrassed at Arthur's intrusion on his half-naked slumber; he napped shirtless, always.

He rubbed his eyes sorely and slumped to his task, not once pausing to consider the unlikely implication of Arthur's command, which was fortunate for him because the prince was not in the mood to tolerate "funny" behaviour.

"Oh!" Arthur called when Merlin entered his chambers a minute later, "just dawdle away, please! It's not like you're working on my time or anything..."

"Um," Merlin began, but was silenced by Arthur's frantic footsteps, and flailing arms.

"Well come on, you've got to suit me and pack us; we're going to Asidore."

Merlin raised his eyebrow, though by now should have been unsurprised at the prince's random requests. He quickly re-started his brain, and entered servant mode once again, fastening the button Arthur was holding out to him, and then picking the needed equipment from the room.

"Where's my cloak?"

"I don't know, where did you put it?"

"It isn't my job to know, is it? It's yours!"

Merlin put down the sack he was carrying onto Arthur's bed, none too lightly, beginning to miss the chair and his sleep. He scanned the floor for the cloak, and saw a corner of it peering from underneath the bed. He noted the way Arthur was spitting his commands through his teeth, and decided it would be best for them both if he worked faster. But unfortunately, doubling the speed of actions usually halved their success.

"Merlin! Look what you've done now, how am I supposed to ride into Asidore with a ripped tunic?"

The wizard, in his haste to put the cloak on Arthur, had snagged the material of the tunic with a chisel he had picked up from the floor to stop from tripping over. He sighed in exasperation.

"Do you mind telling me the reason for all this rush?"

"The reason, _Mer_lin," he dragged out the first syllable of the wizard's name in that way of his which Merlin would describe as _prattish_, "is that my father is throwing a banquet here tomorrow night, which I am required to attend, and the trip to Asidore will take half a day there, half a day back..."

"So..." Merlin spoke, searching for another tunic when he paused suddenly; realisation dawning. He and Arthur would be away for the night... and he started to feel the panic rising as he remembered his tendency to talk in his sleep.

"So, if we are late because of your incompetence, you will be stocked tightly for the rest of the week."

Merlin gulped, and satisfaction bloomed on Arthur's face; but he was wrong in the assumption that the wizard's fear had anything to do with the stocks.

Arthur pulled off his tunic when Merlin had found another and he waited, with a tongue jabbed in his cheek, to be redressed.

By now the panic was firmly settled, and with fingers he tried so hard to keep from trembling, the wizard put on the prince's clothes, fumbling when he brushed against Arthur's waist but not letting himself notice how close his fingers were to warm, naked skin. Arthur, however, did notice. Violently, he flinched.

"Your fingers are cold!" his hips had jerked with the accusation, more venomous than intended, and he bit his lip as goose-bumps trailed across his stomach.

"S..sorry," Merlin spluttered, leaving Arthur to tuck the loose material into his breeches himself. He did so, with an angry glare, stepping towards the fire.

Merlin silently busied himself then with preparing the equipment, and the prince barked more orders – which he ended up carrying out himself – until the pair were ready to leave for the

stables.

"Um, are we camping at Asidore?" Merlin asked when they left the chamber, to which Arthur had replied with a nod towards the blankets in his grip.

When the horses were packed and the command for standby was given to the guards, Arthur bade farewell to his father and the boys climbed onto their steeds.

With the sun far beneath the dip of the horizon, and with Merlin's anxiety as useless as the light from the stars, the journey began; the wizard gulping repeatedly until his breath was steady and his horse paced with Arthurs'... and the prince wondering why goose-bumps still cooled the skin of his stomach.


	5. Chapter 5

Five feeble and almost silent hours had past and three times had the same tree stood in front of the boys on their horses. Merlin, who had remained silent until the third sighting, out of awareness of the prince's temper, could not hold back his comment now.

"We're lost, aren't we?"

The prince answered with a scowl, jerking his horse to a stop, and landing himself onto ground with a heavy thump and harsh footprints in the forest floor. The darkness had settled in far more quickly than either of the boys expected, and what began as a twilight journey familiar to Arthur's memory was now a battle in his mind between pride and duty... would the crown prince of Camelot ever admit to being lost? Of course not.

"My horse needs a rest," said Arthur with a tone which almost dared Merlin to raise an eyebrow and retort, but no such action came; Merlin simply sighed... quietly.

He might have answered back, in fact, he would have enjoyed the opportunity but his mind was, and for the entire journey had been, otherwise occupied; the night was enclosing them and Merlin still hadn't any idea how he was going to escape sleeping next to the prince.

It would be far easier if their plans included staying in the village – Arthur would certainly be given a large, comfortable bed and Merlin... well, one night on a hard floor wouldn't make any difference, it wasn't like he hadn't started off that way. Forget the floor - he would even consent to sleeping with the _livestock_ if it meant that his dreams would not be heard. Crazy, _stupid_, meaningless dreams...

"Merlin, come here," the voice broke the memory, and the darkness hiding his burning cheeks allowed his body to work.

Arthur had seated himself on the bank of a stream which tree branches had hidden from Merlin until now. The wizard dropped from his horse, rubbing her flanks gently before walking through the moonlit leaves on the floor to stand in front of the prince. He stood apart, a comfortable distance.

"What?" he asked, and it seemed like the word was multisyllabic; his tongue tripped over every letter.

"Here," the prince removed something from the satchel around his shoulders, and threw it to Merlin. The wizard watched the light hit the sphere before reaching forth a hand and catching the smooth red apple. He cleared his throat,

"Thanks."

But his voice cracked anyway.

Arthur nodded and sighed, leaning back onto a rock and closing his eyes. Merlin remained standing, and many minutes passed with a slight breeze dancing between the boys.

Then the prince flicked open his eyes, and snapped up his head, with a flush on his features. Merlin knew that gesture... he had _done_ that gesture. It was as if the prince had stumbled on an inappropriate thought. He registered the boy standing above him, and immediately looked away, rubbing his forehead harshly.

"What is it?" Merlin asked, knitting his eyebrows.

"Nothing," but the prince continued to rub his head, "go and fetch me some water from the stream."

"But..."

"Just do it, _Mer_lin!"

Merlin bit away the questions, and stepped past him to the water's edge. He looked back at Arthur, who was wiping his brow now with his sleeve, then lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe his cheeks and jaw. Could he have been _sweating_? The night wasn't typical for winter but it wasn't warm... it certainly wasn't hot. Merlin was sweating, of course, but with problems still unsolved, he had every reason to be.

He took a flask from around his waist and dipped it low beneath the cold, wet, ripples. The liquid was merciful to his hot flesh, and he submerged both his hands up to his elbows, then removed one to flick drops on his face.

He took a deep breath of the night and he exhaled just as thoroughly, shaking the stress from his body and flexing his neck. He smacked his lips together; they had been pursed in thought for so long they were beginning to feel numb. The flask was filled, so he stood, slowly, and he turned to find Arthur standing directly behind him.

"Eroooah," he croaked. And in his head it really _had_ sounded like a word.

The prince took the flask, and looked away before downing the content. But his body was still too close so the wizard stepped past him to sit on the rock.

"Stop smacking your lips, you _know_ it annoys me," Arthur said after wiping his mouth. Merlin obeyed.

"And stop..." the prince gestured with his hands in small circles, features screwed together until he found his word, "..._flexing._" Merlin raised his eyebrows. Arthur continued,

"I _know_ your muscles hurt, so do mine, did you think it would be easy to ride for hours in the night?!"

"No... I knew it wouldn't be... which is why I'm flexing."

Merlin could only connect the temper to the fact that they were lost. He made up his mind, and stalked to his horse, reaching it in four large strides. He removed from a sack a folded map. He turned to face the prince and waved the paper in the air. Four angry strides followed.

"You. Brought. A. _Map_??" He spat, snatching it from Merlin, and taking it back to the stream where the moonlight was brightest.

"For God's sake Merlin, we've been travelling for five hours when we could have reached this point in one!"

"Well you were leading the way!"

"Well you had a map!"

"Well you wouldn't say we were lost!" Merlin almost shouted, but all the while the smirk on his lips grew.

"On your horse," Arthur's demand was diluted with relief, "now!"

Merlin obeyed. The prince followed suit, and the horses' hooves hit the ground hard, a fast paced gallop with the bark from the trees and flying leaves in their wake.

Arthur's lips still mumbled in anger about the map, but his fingers clutched the paper and reigns in a renewed vigour, and Merlin knew the temper was dissolving.

It took five further hours to reach Asidore, but the sight from the highest hill to the dip and the village below was worth the journey to be seen. Merlin, who had never visited the place before, was second to reach the hilltop, but Arthur waited until he was joined by his friend, to witness the reaction. And it was spectacular. All previous irritation forgotten, by both parties.

The firelight from the roads and the windows of the houses was reflected back in gold by Merlin's eyes. His pupils danced with the flames and his stare followed the curve of the village's main road until... the coast.

"The... the sea!" Merlin gasped, smiling so genuinely that Arthur couldn't help but mirror the action, "I've never seen the sea before!"

"Mmm," Arthur mused, "Asidore is one of the most luckily situated villages in the kingdom; I've spent many summers here."

The crescent of coast on which the village was built was ragged, pointed where the river split the land in half to open to the sea. Surrounded by the raised earth, the plateau of sand and soil sat without a castle, but the wooden houses seemed to belong to the ground like the trees of the forests the boys had crossed.

"It's amazing! It's like the mountains have been tamed by the ocean."

"Well," Arthur matched the stare, "in a way they have."

Merlin beamed. For once since the start of the journey he didn't have to force his mind to ignore the sleeping problem. He didn't have to force his eyes to look away from Arthur's stares, and he certainly wasn't noticing the stare now. Though it was more intense than usual.

"The Earth," the prince continued, "is very powerful. Strong, set, stubborn. It can't be moved by man, but the sea... the sea has its own powers."

The great ocean swells, visible in even the moonlight, rolled to crash on the sandy coast beneath the boys.

"When the sea speaks, the Earth listens," Merlin grinned.

"Mmm," Arthur nodded, "...as if by magic."

* * *

**Sorry for taking so long to upload, my inspiration comes and goes at the most annoying times! :P Oh well... I just really want to get to the interesting bit which is writing Merlin and Arthur romance, but I'm trying to keep them in character so it's taking quite a build-up! Will have more slash in the next chapter, so that's a warning to those of you who don't wanna read that kinda thing... enjoy!** **And thanks to all my reviewers so far! Hope you like this chapter :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks so much to my reviewers! Sorry it took me so long to upload, I've been waiting for inspiration which just wouldn't come! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'll try not to take so long to update! As always, reviews are much loved! :D:D **

The horses tread carefully into the quiet around Asidore. It was past midnight and the villagers who lived on the outskirts were sleeping, leaving only cricket-song to disrupt the boys' thoughts, until they rode further and singing men poured out of a Free House ahead of them.

The chants were similar to those of drunken Camelot after a hard day fighting, and Arthur knew the spirit all too well. And so did Merlin, though his prince was unaware of this fact.

As the boys drew nearer, faces replaced the voices of the villagers, and upon seeing two people on horseback, the singing men started shouting.

"Loooooooooook! Look, look! Visitorrrrrrrrrrs!"

Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin, and shot a stare which demanded "ignore them."

Merlin complied, but the men began to surround the horses in their cheerful way, light on their feet but loud on their tongues.

"What you twos guys doooing on here now?" one man drawled, holding onto Arthur's horse to stop himself from swaying to the floor.

The prince immediately jerked the animal away and the man fell onto his back while his friends fell laughing.

"Tha's not ver' nice!" The man on the floor pointed a finger at Arthur, who simply raised an eyebrow.

"Come on Merlin," he called to the wizard in a low voice, and moved to lead the horse forward, but the men would not stand back.

"Look look! This one's got himself a crown!!!! Do yee think yerself a princ...ess then?" he hiccupped.

At this Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"Excuse me?"

Merlin couldn't help then the smile that found its way to his mouth, but he bit his lip and no sound escaped. Glancing at Arthur's expression, he saw in it that very first meeting between himself and the prince, but this time, no hint of a smirk tugged at Arthur's features. Instead the prince was smouldering. Very, _very_ hot. And then Merlin realised that he was biting his lip so hard he tasted blood.

Arthur lifted one leg, almost knocking Merlin flat, and swung it over his horse, landing with a thud and a hand on his sword.

"Arthur!" Merlin whispered harshly when he realised what the prince was intending, "they're drunk, they don't know what they're saying."

Arthur pretended not to hear, stepping forwards a footprint a second, each one bringing him closer to the stale smell of ale and sweat. The man who had spoken hiccupped again, then swayed.

"Arthur! We're guests here!" Merlin tried again, this time leaping off his own horse and stepping as closely behind the prince as he dared.

"Woa, this one's lookin' for a fight!" the man roared with laughter, mirrored by his fellows, and he took a swaggering stand, fingering the hilt of his sword.

"Looking for a fight?" the prince repeated, the smirk flashing through his features. He took out his sword in one quick manoeuvre and swung it in his hand half-heartedly; it was a waste to show off when your opponent was too drunk to take notice.

Arthur looked so menacing then, even in jest, even with his sword pointed at the ground, so powerful... and so very something-Merlin-shouldn't-think-about, that the wizard felt the need to step between the prince and the drunken fool.

"Actually... we were looking for a room," Merlin didn't stop to think about what he was saying, nor how suggestive his tone had sounded, because he was now standing in the middle of a sword sandwich.

The laughter bellowed again. He heard Arthur sigh angrily behind him, and only then did Merlin realise what he had implied.

"I mean..."

"Aww, look he's protecting his boooooyfriend!"

At this Arthur's sword went up again. It was Merlin's turn to sigh, but his was exasperated.

"No, you idiot," he mumbled to the drunkard, "I was protecting _you_."

He stood aside. All it took was one blow... and Merlin _had_ known that Arthur would never harm a helpless man; he just wanted to spare the man the bruises. But now the man was floored, and neither sword had even been used.

"Get yourself home!" Arthur ordered, disgust dripping from his words. This, this was somehow more familiar to the fallen man than the crown had been, and a change occurred in his face so instantly and violently that Merlin did a double take. It was in the light of the moon and in his steady stance that the crown prince was recognised, and each man standing landed on his knees.

"Forgive us, sire," their chant was different now, their heads bowed. The disgust on Arthur's face vanished, but something similar took its place, to Merlin's surprise.

"Get up, and get home," the prince said, but his voice was softer, and he climbed onto his horse again.

The men scattered, the breeze and the royal encounter sobering them quickly, and then they were lost to the wind.

Merlin took to his horse and took a glance at Arthur. They met each other's eyes and Merlin felt his cheeks burn immediately, cursing under his tongue for the stupidity of the reaction. They stared at each other for a few more seconds, and then the prince burst into laughter.

"Merlin," he shook his head, "I _never_ want to see you become that inebriated."

The wizard raised his eyebrow at this.

"No, I mean it," continued Arthur, "you're insolent enough when you're sober; I'd hate to think of what trouble you'd land yourself into when drunk."

Merlin flushed, thinking back to the last time he'd had alcohol. One sip was all he needed. One _sniff_ was all he needed, come to think of it.

"Don't worry," Merlin cleared his throat "you don't need to warn me."

Arthur smirked again.

"You've not been to Asidore before, Merlin... its beach isn't all it's famous for."

He looked pointedly at his friend, and then at the Free House. Merlin followed his stare to a sign outside the building which had been engraved. The message read: "Asidore, home to the best Ale in all of Albion."

"Oh."

"Well then," Arthur nodded his head towards the Inn next door, "Onward."

Merlin blinked. An Inn?

"Um..." he began, but was at a loss with words.

"Well go on! Unless you want to camp out here tonight?"

"But... I thought that was the plan?" Merlin's confusion found a home in his creased forehead.

Arthur sighed, moving his horse beside Merlin's, then taking the reigns from the wizard's horse out of his hands, and leading both animals towards the Inn. After dropping to the ground and tying off the reigns, he explained.

"I didn't realise you were going to bring along a map... so... I took sleeping provisions just in case we had to stay in the forest."

Merlin could see the effort required for the prince to admit to predicting he would get lost, it was evident in the way he rubbed his neck and looked at each spot but the wizard's face.

"Right..." the wizard grinned.

"We'll take two rooms, and leave Asidore after greeting the village leader in the morning," said Arthur.

Perfect. The prince would be staying in one room and Merlin in the other. All would be well.

And he _absolutely did not _feel _anything_ other than total relief at this moment. Nothing at all. He felt no disappointment whatsoever. And neither did Merlin. .Ever.

* * *

When Arthur knocked on the door of the Inn it took all of 3 seconds for scuffling to be heard from inside. The sounds of a large bolt being drawn overpowered the waves of the sea for one moment, and then the door creaked open very slightly.

"Yes... what is it that you want at this time of the night?" A woman snapped, peering around the edge of the door with eyes half shut by sleep. Arthur cleared his throat.

"We would like to take two of your rooms, Kathy."

As soon as he spoke, the tired eyes of the woman popped open with the most alarming speed. Merlin wondered at Arthur's knowledge of her name, but then remembered that Asidore was a favoured holiday destination for the Pendragons.

Kathy stared at Arthur, blinking rapidly, and then wrenched the door open until it smacked against something on the hidden wall.

"Prince Arthur! Could it be?!"

Merlin's curious stare at the prince then was rewarded with a genuine, if tight-lipped, smile, which caused another exclamation to fall from Kathy's lips.

"Oh your highness, do come in! Step right in!"

She moved aside to allow Arthur entrance, and with a glance at Merlin he crossed the threshold, the wizard tentatively tailing behind.

"I am so sorry, your highness, for my rudeness earlier, if I'd known who I was speaking to..."

"Think nothing of it, Kathy," Arthur interrupted the woman's apologies, and Merlin stood expectantly while the door was shut and barred and the lamps inside the hallway lit.

It was in candlelight that Merlin properly saw the appearance of the woman whose face could not help but break with smiles. She was far younger than he'd first thought, no older than twenty, he realised, and that was what shocked him the most; the way she had spoken to Arthur, he would have supposed her to have been his holiday wet-nurse. It was now more likely that she would have been his playmate.

"Have you travelled alone here, sire?"

She eyed Merlin with raised eyebrows and a quick assessment of his apparel. When she looked back to the prince she kept the corner of her sight on the wizard, and while this could have been unnerving, her easy manner allowed Merlin to relax.

She was pretty, too. Oh she was not dressed as a noblewoman, (nor was she dressed like a servant, so her station was difficult to judge) but it was very clear that beauty had been kind to her. Merlin wondered then at just what kind of a playmate she might have been, but he stopped himself before anything resembling jealousy could surface in his stomach.

"Yes," Arthur replied, but after hearing the wizard grumble he added, "Well... with my manservant, Merlin."

Kathy bobbed her pleasantry to Merlin, and he smiled at the lady who, unlike many others in Arthur's presence, took care to notice his companion.

"And have you had a pleasant journey?"

Arthur nodded, paused, and then replied with,

"Yes, although tiring..."

Kathy started as though she had been burnt by an iron, and then instantly went to a table upon which was sitting a leather-bound book.

"Of course," she spoke, hurriedly, now making eye contact with both Arthur and Merlin equally, "you must be exhausted, I will get you your rooms immediately."

"We're in no rush," the prince amended, sensing Kathy's anxiety and eager to quell it, but he could not help rubbing the back of his neck to straighten the kinks. A low and quiet moan trickled from his lips then, and Merlin's skin began to tingle as though it had been stung.

_Oh no..._

The wizard shifted from foot to foot and tried not to look at what the prince was doing. _I thought I'd escaped this..._

His eyes could see the golden skin underneath Arthur's shirt, and the tight muscles kneaded by strong knuckles, but his brain refused to register the sight. Still Arthur carried on, moving the shirt further down, exposing more flesh and allowing more sounds to escape.

"Merlin," he breathed mid-moan, and the wizard choked on his own saliva.

"Huh??"

"Merlin, come here."

The wizard took one step forward, with locked knees, and hoped that the movement wasn't all he could manage. He somehow crossed the space to Arthur's side, Arthur who was _still_ massaging himself. Taunting was all it was, taunting because Merlin was beginning to realise the full extent of his attraction to the prince, and was running out of excuses.

"Yes, Arthur?" Did he just _squeak_?

"Rub my shoulders for me, will you? It's a difficult angle, I cannot do it myself."

_Oh dear God..._

"Um, okay."

His fingers twitched, but he brought them up to the offending article anyway, surprised, no, completely and utterly shocked at how steady he managed to keep them. The heat from Arthur's shoulder was intense, and as soon as skin touched skin both boys gasped, but both were too focused on their own reactions to notice each other's.

"Mmm," Arthur mumbled when Merlin began to rub his fingers in hard circles along the muscle.

Suddenly very aware that they were not alone, the wizard looked towards Kathy's direction, but she was writing something in a book and had not glanced up at all. A small voice inside Merlin's mind suggested that Kathy was probably used to hearing Arthur elicit such sounds, but he quickly silenced the thought when Arthur yelped at his tightened grasp.

"That feels _so_ good," the prince flexed his head back while uttering those delicious words; his hair touching Merlin's knuckles. He stepped backwards subconsciously, and the wizard did not realise this until his thigh grazed Arthur's leg. The movement burned him, instantly. Arthur's moans intensified.

"Mmm, right there, _yes!_ Rub me hard."

And it was at this point that the wizard felt the need to stop. Otherwise he would no doubt have done something very inappropriate, like, _rub the prince hard,_ for example.

"Why have you stopped?" Arthur demanded, turning to face a Merlin who would not allow his eyes to be seen.

"Merlin?"

"I... my hands got tired," he spoke quickly, pretending to sooth his aching fingers, but really he was rubbing the electricity away. Kathy unknowingly came to his aid.

"Right, I've got your rooms, if you'll come with me, sire."

Not removing his eyebrow-quirked gaze at Merlin, Arthur followed Kathy's lead as if he knew the route himself. Upon reflection Merlin guessed he probably _did_ know the route; the Inn most likely reserved a particular room for the prince of Camelot.

They walked along the hallway and up a flight of stairs, passing along a dark and narrow landing lit by a single candle carried by Kathy, until they reached a large arched door made of solid oak. It stood out from the others which were far smaller and far less grand.

"Your usual room, your highness," Kathy handed a key to Arthur, with a curtsy. She then looked at Merlin.

"Your room is through this one, there is another door inside," she said softly. Could Merlin detect a slight colour in her cheeks as she spoke? Was she embarrassed?

She cleared her throat and nodded to the wizard, not once looking him in the eye, and then she curtseyed again to Arthur.

"If there is anything you require, sire, I sleep in my father's old room."

Arthur nodded; he seemed to know what she was talking of. She curtseyed for what must have been the third time, Merlin watching Arthur intently all the while she did so, and then made her way back along the landing; the light disappearing with her. Arthur quickly turned the key in the lock while there was light enough to see, and he grabbed a candle from somewhere inside, striking it in one motion and ushering Merlin through.

"Well go on in, and don't be slow about it! We've had a long day."

Merlin looked at the newly lit bedroom in all its majesty, exactly what he would expect for a prince. He saw the door which lead through to his own room, and turned to Arthur in time to catch a gaze which was obviously meant to be hidden, because Arthur turned away immediately and began to fumble with the candlestick. Merlin knew that gaze.

"We_ have_ had a long day," he agreed with Arthur, knowing that he was about to have a very long night.


	7. Chapter 7

The bed had been prepared; the armour had been stripped and laid onto a table, leaving Arthur in just his linens when Merlin finally got the chance to see his own room.

He didn't expect much; he was a servant and this was not Camelot, but when he opened the door, the first and definitely the most alarming detail of his quarters for the night hit him like a battering ram. There was no bed.

"Um," he blurted out, before he could stop himself. Tiredness made him do it; he blamed that and he blamed his being used to a bed in Camelot.

"What is it?" The hope that Arthur hadn't heard his noise of protest was dashed when the prince stood himself behind Merlin and peered over the wizard's shoulders into the second bedroom.

"There's no bed," Arthur sniffed, with an air far less concerned than the one Merlin had taken.

"Clearly," Merlin snapped, forgetting himself again. But really, tiredness could be blamed for a lot of things.

"Hmm."

"It's fine, I'm used to the floor," oh how those words ebbed away a little part of his soul, and not just because he was hoping to sleep comfortably, but because of what he hoped those words would prompt from the prince; something he shouldn't hope for... an offer.

Arthur didn't reply instantly; he looked to his own bed and pondered silently for a moment or two. Then it came.

"Don't be an idiot, you've been travelling just as long as I have; you can't sleep on the floor tonight."

"But..."

"I'll sort something out."

Arthur then turned and walked to the door of his chamber. Merlin watched the back; the broad shouldered beauty that walked away from him, and he sighed, admitting now that there was no material dark enough to veil this forbidden attraction. In so many ways forbidden, reasons reaching numbers he faltered when trying to count, and all the time angry at himself for even resolving to reason. There was no rationalising it, Arthur was the Crown Prince; Arthur was a man. Merlin was a servant; _Merlin_ was a man. It should have ended there.

But it hadn't.

"In the mean time," the prince said, spinning on his heel to face Merlin and opening the door, gesturing into the hallway, "bring us up some ale, will you?"

The wizard nodded. He passed Arthur, stepping out onto the landing and catching a smile before Arthur closed his door. Merlin sighed again.

After creeping downstairs as quietly as could be done with uncertain footing in darkness, Merlin reached what he hoped was the kitchen, then fumbling for a few moments he entered it and at once the moon's faint light faded around him from an open window. It was here that he paused, suddenly hesitant.

Back in Camelot he had had no qualms about fetching Arthur food or drink, no matter how late the hour, but here, in an unknown place, he suddenly felt unsure. Arthur was still the Crown Prince, but did the same rules which had applied in Camelot apply here too?

He thought only for a second more, remembering the respect shown to Arthur upon their arrival at the Inn, and the fact that his usual room was permanently reserved, and he decided that it was fine to proceed.

No sooner had this decision come; no sooner had Merlin, aided by moonlight, found the pantry and a barrel of ale, than he heard a loud noise behind him and turned to find Kathy hovering wildly in the doorway, armed with a mallet.

"Who's there?" She cried, apparently not recognising Merlin in the dim light, and she took a half-blind swing at him, fortunately so poorly aimed that it was easy to dodge.

"Woah! It's Arthur's manservant!" He stuttered, side-stepping.

Immediately she stopped, dropping the mallet to the ground.

"Oh, I am so sorry!"

Merlin could see that her eyes were wide as she stood awkwardly, looking at him with a different expression, but one no less unsettling than the first.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

And she looked so comical then, so naively unaware of her own fragility, that Merlin couldn't hold back a smile.

"I'm fine, you missed me," he assured, grin widening, "I'm sorry to have woken you; it's just, Arthur wanted some ale..."

"Yes," Kathy interrupted, suddenly, and with a curious crease between her brows.

She stepped past Merlin, more familiar with the room than the wizard had been, and brought down two cups from a cupboard Merlin hadn't before noticed. She placed one of the cups underneath the barrel, dislodged the cork and a liquid poured freely whose essence filled the whole room within seconds.

Merlin took a long, deep, thirsty breath. It smelt like ale, and yet it smelt purer, healthier, almost heavenly, and at that last thought Merlin decided he must have been tired. Or drunk on the vapours; he couldn't be sure.

"Mmm," he let the appreciation slip, and his tongue lined his lips.

Kathy smiled in a very patriotic sort of way.

"Best ale in all of Albion, this is," she paused, and then almost shyly added, "Merlin."

"I know," he smiled genuinely, "Arthur mentioned so."

He hoped that this comment would have put a larger smile on Kathy's face; knowing that the prince approved of their famed drink (knowing the prince approved of something distinctly Merlin's would certainly have made _Merlin_ smile) but instead that same curious creased expression from before hit the Inn keeper. She was _wincing_.

Merlin blanched.

"Did I say something... wrong?"

She looked at him sharply, and then widened her eyes again.

"No, no!" she spluttered.

"Are you... sure?"

"Of course," she tried her best to smile, but the agitation could not be hidden, and Merlin was suddenly reminded of Gwen at her most flustered moments.

"Right," he said, "then I'll just get these to Arthur and..."

She bit her lip. He caught the gesture and pointed.

"There! You did it again!"

"I'm so sorry, Merlin," Kathy began, "I have not been to Camelot in such a long while, the customs are unfamiliar to me."

Merlin stared, but his confusion only rose. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Um..."

"It's just," she continued, "something I have to get used to, I'm sorry."

"What is?"

She reddened, and a small, scary thought which asked "does she know about how I feel?" flickered through Merlin's mind before he extinguished it. But it grew from the ashes again when Kathy made an obvious attempt to avoid the wizard's eye.

"It's not important; obviously somebody in your position has privileges, allowances, which we here in Asidore would not even dream of."

"I'm not sure I understand," Merlin faltered, his ears growing hot. The line of conversation wasn't even making sense, but the less he comprehended, the more his paranoia made him believe that she was onto him.

"Well, your refusal of his orders, for one thing..."

Merlin blinked.

"And the way you address him as..." she took a sharp intake of breath, "Arthur."

"Yes?" _Go on_, he thought, _just say it; say it so the ground can swallow me up._

"Well, obviously the position of the prince's manservant has taken a different meaning over the years."

She bowed low and handed the two full cups of ale to Merlin before he could ask anything else.

"For the prince and for yourself, and don't hesitate to rouse me if there is anything else you require."

And just as slyly as she had arrived, she left again.


End file.
